


King

by junichiblue



Category: Bleach
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 16:57:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17026563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junichiblue/pseuds/junichiblue
Summary: What's it like to be a consort to the King?  Unimpressed with his lot in life in the eyes of the Kingdom, Ichigo is loath to find out. Grimmjow expects another night of release. But instead, his lust is put on hold while he battles his rebellious citizen. Grimmichi.





	1. Chapter 1

Feathers fell down through the leaves of a giant oak, iridescent blues and greens glittering as they caught in golden flickers of the sun's broken flames. Their journey, their last as they spiralled towards the earth on the early spring breeze.

They bore only a short witness to the happenings of their departure. The body they left was being attacked with abandon, taken in the open at the peak of the oak. Only the setting sun was privy to the throes of passion that happened on this impatient Spring evening.

It was a tawdry affair, a new lifelong connection.

But not even the great provider of light and life could ever know or understand just what it was that brought these two beings together in such a hurried frenzy of mating. Of lust. Of love.

Was it just a chemical reaction? Was it coded in their blood? Or did it run deeper, an ethereal connection between two souls?

A pair of azure eyes stole a glance at the private a moment, and wondered.

Whatever it was, he certainly hadn't found it yet.

Only the birds knew what secrets had passed between them.

X X X

The slap of wet flesh echoed fast and indiscreet through the large room as Grimmjow ploughed with rough, solid thrusts into the obedient body that had been offered up to him on this late spring evening.

He growled as he felt his climax approaching, strong muscular ass flexing hard, trying to grind his member in as deep as it could go. He needed release.

Every night was like this.

A body. Heat. Release.

Grimmjow was fortunate the city he had come to rule over was so vast.

He'd been the King for over a year now. The passing of his father had been hard, but the man had given Grimmjow his full blessing before his illness took him. Grimmjow could do whatever he wanted to find a mate and sire a family of his own. His old man's last request; that he indeed find one. With haste.

And he needed to. He was the last. His bloodline had come to an end. They had all been warriors, and good ones, but through the years the fertile lands surrounding these walls had raged with battles, and sickness was always waiting. And so, one by one, the fruit of his family tree had been diminished until it had finally been picked clean. Save for Grimmjow.

And now the kingdom was his to rule.

Since he was of age, a young prince with endless energy and a lust that could never be sated for long, Grimmjow had had consorts. The youth of the city were his, should he desire them. And he had, without shame. Night after night, he tasted their flesh. One by one, they'd endured his carnal demands, given themselves to him. But only their bodies.

Not one yet had ever attracted his heart.

The last year had been difficult, stressful in new ways for the fledgling King. Grimmjow didn't even choose who he slept with anymore. There wasn't time. Too many things needed his attention, so the choice was left to the family's trusted advisor to select and groom the youths he deemed safe and acceptable consorts for the blue-eyed prince turned King. That decision had been made long before Grimmjow's ascent to the throne. Years before his reign had even been considered.

Grimmjow was fine with that. It was like having a nice surprise waiting for him at the end of each day, when his royal duties had been seen to. And he had always been fine with the idea of a consort to release his tension. What self respecting King should ever have to take that duty into his own hands? Certainly not him.

Nor would he bed the same man more than once. Then they were free to pursue their own sexual conquests as they saw fight. But only then.

Each of his nightly partners was a virgin, brought to him when they came of age. By law. For the sake of the King's health and safety, any youth selected by the royal family's advisor had to remain a virgin until he was either offered up or released from his duty. The second part had never happened. There were 365 days in a year, and Grimmjow had filled almost every one of them with a new conquest.

But it wasn't just his libido that kept him moving forward.

And he wasn't really such a bastard as to ignore the needs of his partners.

So he moved on for two reasons. First, he felt nothing for the boys he fucked. Second, he didn't want his consorts to become unduly attached. It happened from time to time. A young man he'd had would return, bowing at the foot of his throne, asking if he could be of service again. Grimmjow turned them away as kindly as he could, which, by his gruff nature, had an edge of coldness to it that, on more than one occasion, had left tears in the eyes of his former pursuits.

Grimmjow stood out on the wide marble balcony that overlooked his city as the soft mask of twilight approached. He was naked, and the evening air licked her cool tongue along every hard and soft curve of his sweat slicked skin. He heard soft steps approaching him from behind, but didn't turn.

“You can go.”

A shaky voice, still a little breathless, answered from inside the dimly lit room. Muted by the carpet on the floor. The sound of disappointment. But no regrets.

“Yes, my Lord.”

X X X

Ichigo paced around the lavish room. Chestnut brown eyes scanned everything from the dark oak furniture, to the tapestries on the wall, tasteful, he noted, to the ornate rug that covered much of the cold marble floor beneath his feet.

He was alone in the King's private chambers.

And no, he wasn't walking. He was definitely pacing, pausing to study each and every object that fell into view, each one utterly un-fascinating and failing miserably as a distraction. Could he use any of it as a weapon? No. That wouldn't end well for him. He turned for another strafing run and without his expressed consent, his eyes fell upon the object he loathed the most, the one thing that send his gut into a flitting panic.

The one thing in the room he'd been trying to avoid looking at was the hardest to miss.

The four poster bed by the wall near the balcony.

The bed he was dragged here to be thrown onto and taken.

By the King himself.

X X X

Ichigo stood, frozen to the marble floor at the edge of the balcony. He was half considering leaping over the side.

But it was a long long way down.

The door to the prison... the room... he'd been left to wait in for nearly two hours, had opened.

In that time, he'd discovered one thing he liked about the place. The view from the balcony was breathtaking. As a mere commoner, Ichigo's life was on the streets. He worked to feed himself and his family. And he played as hard as he worked whenever he had the chance. He had acquired many skills, more than most. He was swift, and strong, and good with a sword. And he loved to climb. But he'd never been up this high before. The city was bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun, and from here, he imagined he could walk out onto the air. And right now, he wanted to.

“Why are you still dressed?” The low growl cut through Ichigo like a rusty blade. And it took a moment for the words to register.

“Excuse me?” he said dumbly, offence in his voice, even though he wasn't sure he'd quite figured out what he'd heard just yet.

“Did Urahara not inform you about procedure?”

“Pr- procedure?!” Now... he was offended.

Grimmjow gave a level stare and corrected himself. He didn't know what had gotten into him. Yes, his consorts were instructed to be naked and ready for him upon his arrival. Their exposure appealed to him. And he needn’t take the time to undress them to decide if they were desirable. Grimmjow's advisor knew well what he liked.

It was common, however for his conquests to shy up. And many a time, when he walked in, he would find them in various states of attire. He was always quick to remedy their disobedience, but he never gave them a hard time about it.

But tonight, he felt like tormenting the young man who acted like he clearly hadn't gotten the memo on his duties. There was just something about him, the instant he saw him standing at the terrace, a ray of sun setting fire to that shock of orange hair. His figure was young, strong and lean, but he stood with the pride of a man set in his straightened back.

And there was more. There was a scent in the air, a vibe that Grimmjow had picked up on even before he'd reached his chambers. Indeed, the moment he walked in, he felt a spark of lust like nothing he'd ever felt before.

“Okay. Protocol. What's expected of you, of course. Our customs,” he amended, walking forward in a slow, confident march across the vast expanse of lush carpet. His heavy mud-encrusted boots left flakes of dirt in their wake. The young man eyed him thoroughly, gaze taking in the armour that he'd already dropped from his shoulders, the tarnished silver chain-mail weave of his shirt, and the sheathed sword at his side.

Grimmjow was surprised at the surge in his libido. He'd had a long day, what should have been a quick fight in the battlefield to repel a small invading group drawn out to this late hour. As the last in his line and his loss unthinkable, he'd forced the issue and lead his men to victory. All he'd wanted to do when he got to his chambers was fuck for awhile, be touched by hands that didn't hold a thirsty sword in them, and then get some needed rest.

The orange-haired youth sniffed, arms folding in a defensive gesture.

“Your customs are barbaric. And I refuse to participate.”

The King frowned, words leaving him. Well, this was new. He was shocked that such bold statements would be coming from one of his consorts, especially such an attractive young male. And that voice. Somehow, despite the ungracious mindset of his guest, Grimmjow's cool hadn't quite slipped yet. But he was dangerously close.

He kept a level stare, finally noticing the depth of the brown eyes that bore his wrath with the strength and composure of a stone wall. He stopped short of the balcony's entrance way, near the corner of the neatly made bed, a fair enough distance left between them.

“You... dare refuse me? Are you daft?” The King motioned to the room around them. “Do you know where it is exactly that you're standing?”

“I do. And no, I'm not. And yes, I'm aware of where I am.”

“And...?”

“I'm here against my will.” The King raised an unimpressed brow, and Ichigo grumbled in response. “I'm saving myself.”

“Yes. I know.” He smirked, eyes cool with his own darkening amusement. “For me.”

Grimmjow released the long, heavy blade from his side and leaned it against the foot of the bed. Ichigo, kept his eyes on his adversary.

“Tch. Not likely.”

Grimmjow ignored that as he reached for the belt around his waist.

“What's your name... kid.”

“I'm not a kid.” The stone wall crumbled a little and the young man glared. “And it's Ichigo. Kurosaki Ichigo.”

“Well... Kurosaki.” He pulled the belt free and tossed it on the floor at the foot of the bed. ”I'm your King, and you will do as you're commanded.”

The red-brown eyes Grimmjow was watching hardened further, a harbinger of things to come, and he felt himself brace.

“I'm not one of your damn soldiers.”

Grimmjow blinked, disbelief stalling his mind. But shock only held him back for a moment. Once was a mistake. Twice was sheer defiance.

“You insolent little shit!” he snarled, taking two steps forward, his hand already reaching and finding the sword hilt resting by his hip. The boy's eyes widened, the first sign of honest fear in them finally showing through. Grimmjow gritted his teeth and loosened his grip on his weapon. For some fucked up reason, he really wanted this kid. He reminded himself that he wanted to bed him, not scare him stupid. With a deep internal sigh, he straightened himself out from the half lunge he'd stepped into. He leaned the naked sword against the foot of the bed, a gesture of non-violence on his part, and tilted his head consideringly.

The brat didn't want to be here. He thought he was too good to be a consort.

Che. Perhaps a little reverse psychology was in order. Grimmjow had seen his advisor use it on more than one occasion. It could be an effective tool.

“I'm starting to think Urahara's lost his touch,” he growled. “An ungracious street rat with a filthy mouth like yours has no business in my palace.”

Hn. Urahara might have done it better.

Now normally, Ichigo would have been all up and over a guy for a comment like that. But he had far more immediate plans at the moment. He brushed passed the King without so much as a “by your leave” and took two long strides towards the doorway.

“You make a good point. Then I'll just be leaving... Urk!”

The room spun around him, and before Ichigo knew what had happened, he'd stumbled back and been pinned with brute force to what should have felt like a soft bed. He'd bounced once, his legs bent at the knees, thighs burning a little from the sudden stretch. But it was the fist around his throat, cutting off his air, that had every last ounce of his attention. Not the plush layers of bedding beneath him.

An azure storm bored down into him, and he strained to breathe, coughing in air as the pressure finally lifted. Grimmjow pulled back, anger radiating off him like a blazing fire.

“You can leave if you want, but the only place you'll go is the fucking cells,” he snarled.

Goddamn. Grimmjow hadn't been this mad in awhile. No one in Ichigo's position had ever said, no, before. No one had ever dared. And as far as Grimmjow knew, no one had wanted to.

It had always been the same. They were all nervous. Some downright shy in the presence of royalty. In the presence of their spoiling. But they never denied him, even those few who had whimpered and cried, because as is turned out, they hadn't really enjoyed their first time.

Grimmjow didn't fault them for it. He was more than most could handle.

But this... insolent, brash, soon to be chained up or outlawed punk in front of him...

He hoped he cried.

Grimmjow bared his teeth in distaste at the young man who had just defied him. Well, he couldn't call him young, not really, not when he he himself was only a few years older, the last weeks of his own teenaged years passing him quietly by in the midst of his father's abrupt illness.

Ichigo drew himself up off of wrinkled sheets on legs that he swore to himself weren't shaking in the slightest, and stood defiant at the end of the bed where he was meant to lie.

“If that's what you feel you need to do, then go ahead.”

Grimmjow rolled his shoulders as he took a breath and stepped in close.

“You tempt me, brat.” His words were more a growl as he stepped up to the brazen youth and glared down.

Ichigo just looked right back at him.

“I'd rather spend my time with the rats in the dungeon than be a King's whore.”

Azure eyes lit up, and Grimmjow's limited control finally snapped. It wasn't his intention. He was fresh off the battlefield, and the violence of the day still clung to his senses. This stalemate was at an end.

Ichigo felt his neck strain, tendons pulling taut as his head snapped to the side. He grunted, vision unclear, jaw burning. But he was already pushing himself up from where he'd been sent to the floor by the powerful backhand. He blinked hard, and gripped the bedpost to haul himself off of all fours. Something heavy slid flat against his knuckles and he stopped to glance up at it.

He heard a catch in the King's breathing along with his own. Then a short cackle that made him want to growl.

“Ohhh... You want my sword?” Grimmjow's eyebrow raised and he sneered, voice taunting, almost a sing song. Just. Daring.

He took a step away from foot of the bed, where it rested in the crook of the frame, and gave a short nod at boy on the floor.

“Take it,” he sneered, the warning in his eyes palpable.

Brown eyes flickered from the floor to the unsheathed sword inches from his fingertips. The temptation of it was palpable in his veins.  
Instead he let his head drop fractionally, eyes cast down, heat and anger hidden by the fringe of his orange bangs.

He'd lost.

Grimmjow's dirt encrusted boots came into view as he stepped before him.

“Ah. So you're not quite as stupid as you let on.”

Ichigo's head shot up, muddy eyes loaded with venom, but Grimmjow only glared down at him as he bellowed across the room.

“Guards!”

The door opened immediately, and Ichigo's head snapped to the side. It hurt. Ichigo wondered how much it would have taken for his own cries to open that door. Probably uncountable.

“My Lord.” Two men appeared, stopping just inside the door.

“Take this wilful wretch underground. Single cell. Apparently, life isn't good enough for him up here. We'll see if he changes his attitude after some time in the dungeons.”

Ichigo didn't protest as he was manhandled away.

He'd won.

After a long moment of silence and of staring at the door, Grimmjow heaved a sigh and dropped onto the bed where his sword still stood. He shrugged out of the armoured shirt he wore and scratched at the back of his neck, down between his shoulder blades.

He was really going to need to have a talk with Urahara about this. The man had been an excellent advisor for many long years. But clearly, this infuriating creature had slipped past his keen sense of taste.

X X X

“...ungrateful ass in the dungeon for a month, and then I swear I'm going to have him fucking beheaded.”

A figure stood at the foot of the throne and listened in amiable silence as his King regaled him with a well colored tongue on all the finer points of his unrivalled misfortune.

“He is different, isn't he?”

“That's your answer?” The King glared, a telltale clench in his jaw. “You're gonna have to do a lot better than that, Kisuke.”

“I think he's a wonderful young man.”

There was a short pause as blue eyes narrowed.

“...So, I'm thinking of hiring a new advisor...”

“Ah. Yes. Indeed.” Urahara cleared his throat. “Your majesty, what I mean to say is, Kurosaki Ichigo isn't the rabble he seems to be. Yes, he is a very strong minded boy. Disagreeable at times. But he is not unlike his King in many ways.”

“Guards.”

“Now, now, my Lord. You asked for my opinion.” Urahara clasped his hands together, trying not to wring them, as he half bowed his head.

“No. I didn't. I asked you why the hell you saw fit to drag such an unruly, defiant, thankless, and frankly disloyal upstart into my chambers where I might wish to enjoy myself, only to be denied my right to bed him.”

“Ah. Yes. That.” He raised a finger and continued carefully. “Well... because he has good qualities which I'm certain would quickly become apparent to my Lord under less... pressured... circumstances.”

Grimmjow frowned.

“Speak fast.”

“I've known the boy for quite awhile, and I've found he is quite the natural leader himself.”

“A leader?” the King spat, disbelief evident in narrowed eyes. “Of what!? Mouthy virgin rebels?” He gripped the polished stone arms of the throne and leaned forward to look down on his esteemed advisor. 

“I have enough rebellions to deal with outside the city. I don't need any in my chambers, Kisuke.”

“It's to be expected of him. Like you, he is also a warrior at heart.”

“Che.”

“Though his refusals on this particularly sensitive subject may be for himself...” he paused as the blue-haired King sneered at the reminder. “...as a matter of course he fights for others, for what he believes in, even if it means he takes the fall in the process. He is well liked by his peers, and tends to his family with devotion beyond his years. Have you never heard his name before? He's spent quite a few nights in your dungeons.”

Grimmjow blinked, surprise burning out quickly down the wick of his short fuse.

“Did you suddenly forget how busy I've been this past year? I leave all minor offences to my guards to deal with. You know that.”

“Yes, indeed. And I have been busy for several years now myself... tending to your needs.”

Kisuke Urahara bowed slightly as the King growled.

“Happily I might add. But, my Lord...” He looked up and all traces of humour were gone. “I must insist that you give this boy a fair chance, and the opportunity to show you his true colors. It is a fact that the Kingdom needs an heir. Your father, rest his soul, had great hopes that this... process would see you find a suitable mate. Forgive me, my Lord, but it is my honest opinion that you have been forgetting the original purpose of your nightly pursuits of late.

Though Grimmjow remained still, his un-amused blue eyes were set on his advisor with intense interest.

“Anyone else Kisuke, would find themselves at the end of my sword.”

“You are too kind, my Lord. And I assure you, I do have a point.”

“I'm sure you do. Enlighten me then before I change my mind.”

“Perhaps it is time to consider giving your consorts more than one night to prove their worth.”

Grimmjow regarded his advisor coolly for several long seconds.

“Very well. I'll take some of that into consideration. But only because of my father's abiding faith in you, Kisuke. You're dismissed.”

“My Lord.” Kisuke folded one arm neatly across his stomach and bowed.

Grimmjow was nearly relieved to see the blond advisor go. He took his scruffy five o'clock shadow and oddly conniving slippery smile with him as he left the King to his throne. But Grimmjow didn't have time to consider Kurosaki Ichigo's finer attributes, physical or otherwise. He was up to his neck in meetings.

It was going to be a long, rough day.

X X X

Ichigo leaned against the aging bars of his small cell and listened to the sounds that echoed through the maze of short tunnelled halls. Everything was familiar. The drops of water that leaked from the blackened ceiling and onto the prisoners, having escaped from God knew where above them. The stale, musty smell of damp and mould. The wet, telltale cough of prisoners exposed to it for far too long. 

It had sounded like a good plan.

It was fruitless to beg for amnesty or try to sweet talk his way out of sex with the King. He'd heard that had been tried before, and word on the street was that the former prince hadn't shared his consorts' views. The King took what the King wanted.

Ichigo was a good person. He knew that. He didn't mind living hand to mouth. He didn’t mind it because he had all the things that mattered most, a close family, strong friendships, and a will to fight to make the things that mattered better. What he was completely unimpressed with was his so called lot in life in the narrow eyes of the King's palace. He'd been chosen by Kisuke Urahara, the previous and current King's trusted advisor. He was to be a part of the circus of young men that had been being paraded through the King's bed chambers for far too long.

He was frankly unwilling to bend over and give the King access to his.. personal quarters. In fact, Ichigo was pretty much appalled about the whole thing. He needed more. Connection. Lust with love. An equal footing. A partner in life. Otherwise, it was just an empty act, and he wouldn’t let himself be used by the likes of anyone, even royalty.

But his words, his needs, had always fallen on deaf ears. And now, here he was.

It was a good plan. But it was a dangerous plan too.

Present himself as obnoxious and undesirable. Disgusted by a cheap one night stand with the King. And maybe he'd be turned away.

That wasn't a hard role to play. He was disgusted by it. And he could be those other things too, at times. Or so he'd been told.

All he had to do was do his time in the cells, then hopefully he'd be free to go home and live his life, unspoilt until he saw fit to change it. On his terms. What was a night or two of imprisonment to him anyway? Except.... 

Wait... Grimmjow hadn't mentioned an actual sentence length, had he?

Uh oh.

Ah... shit.

Oh well. It wasn't like he wasn't familiar with these accommodations. Hell, even a week or two in here was no sweat off his back for the freedom it bought him.

“Hey Ichigo! Haven't seen you here in... weeks! Your dad finally chain you up, or what?” 

“Hey Shinji.” He gave a sideways smile to the blond guard, reaching through the bars to bump fists. “What's new?” he drawled.

“Oh. Well... let me tell you... “ The guard was young, not much older than him. Ichigo was a little jealous. The guy was set. A year as a simple turnkey in the dungeon, and he could apply to be a royal guard of the courts. The pay was good. Three gold coins a week.

Damn. What Ichigo could buy for his family with that kind of coin...

But.. oh yeah. He wasn't really in a position to be applying for a job in the King's palace.

Maybe if Grimmjow had at least offered to pay him, he might have.... 

Gross.

“Hope you're hungry today, Ichi.”

“Why's that?”

“Because we have a new and improved menu!”

“Uhuh. No more water and stale bread?”

“Nope. Now it's water and mouldy bread!”

“You enjoy your line of work?”

“Nah. But you help me pass the time, Ichi.”

“I'm honoured.”

“Hmmm. That's not what I hear.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“I heard from reliable sources that you ain't in here for ordinary fighting this time.”

“So?”

“So, you're here 'cause you wouldn't give the King a taste of that sweet ass of y-... glnx!”

“You wanna not be talking to me about that, 'kay Shinji? I'm not comfortable with it, alright?”

*cough* “Hey. Who's the guard here? You really do need to learn your place around the palace, Ichigo.”

“You know what. I'm fine outside the palace. It may not always be easy, but I'll take freedom to being bullied like that any day.”

“Bullied? Dude. Ya saved it for him didncha? And now the King himself wants to fuck ya...”

“Shut up.”

“...Take ya to pleasure town...”

“Shut...”

“Have some nookie with a rookie...”

“Oh, my God. Shut up!”

“Seriously, Ichi. You may think he's a bastard for trying ta feel ya up, but he's rich and hot. And I hear he's no slouch in bed.”

“Doesn't matter if he's rich! It's a cheap one night stand! And I said, shut up!”

“I don't see what your problem is, Ichigo.”

“Did you have to sleep with him?!”

“Well, no. I'm not his type. But you are. I bet you could even give him a run for his money.”

“Guards!”

“What? Hey! You can't do that! That's my job!”

X X X

He moved through the narrow halls uncontested on silent feet, the frayed, brown, hooded robe he wore, brushing against the walls, that in some spots, shimmered with algae from the constant dampness of the place.

He didn't usually come down here. It was dark, damp, musty, and cold. Full of bad smelling things, and depressing as shit.

But there was a reason for it. The people who languished here were criminals. Deserving of their punishment. And in his kingdom, as with his father's, punishments were harsh, but short lived. He believed in second chances, as a rule. A slap on the wrist for the small stuff. 

He'd intended to let the boy who had gone against him languish for only a day or two in the cells. Though he'd been recklessly free with his words, the kid hadn't gone for the sword, so he was going to give him points for that. He'd been here since last night, and Grimmjow was wondering if he might be ready to see things Grimmjow's way. He was still unsatisfied, the morning bringing no life to his libido. But now.. with thoughts of the unruly oranget on the forefront of his mind again... he might see fit to shorten his sentence and give the kid a second chance to fulfill his... duties. He grinned at the thought. Surely he would be more agreeable now.

The sight that greeted him in the dark corridor wasn't what he expected. It seemed that Urahara was right. One day down here, and he was the life of the party. In fact, as Grimmjow surveyed his prisoner, the kid was busy lifting the spirits of those around him, reminding them of all they had to return to back out in the streets of the city when they saw them again.

Grimmjow watched from the shadow of the hood he wore as the youth gestured through the bars to his fellow prisoners, donning an easy air and tossing a piece of bread to the slender figure across the corridor.

He watched with interest as the boy gave the man a soft smile, genuine and fulfilled, before he turned away from the bars, hand rubbing once across his stomach as he moved away to sit on his patch of cold concrete floor.

X X X

He had languished for only a full day and two nights in the dungeon, the King apparently having decided to give things another go.

Not that Ichigo would budge.

He counted himself fortunate, though. The King could have just taken him by force. He was bigger, stronger, meaner, and more lethally trained than Ichigo could hope to be, what with his self taught street smarts.

After being sent to shower and change into new clean clothes, Ichigo had spent the next morning under ordered silence at the King's heel. Stuck throne-side, sitting in on the endless parade of requests from rich and poor alike. He thought he'd be bored off his stone. But as it turned out Grimmjow was the one who seemed to be suffering through the routine barrage of questions and requests. Even the sentencing of a murderous traitor to the gallows hadn't seemed to phase him. 

Grimmjow yawned and waved the guards out of the room from his perch so he could have a moment of privacy with his guest for the morning.

“I'm thinking of taking a break at noon,” he stated flatly. “I think you should accompany me to my quarters for a quickie.” 

Ichigo folded his arms and didn't even deign to look up.

“You're a spoiled ass and I'm not sleeping with you. So you may as well have me drawn and quartered now.”

Grimmjow glared down to where Ichigo sat beside him in the throne room.

“You know me, then?” He asked, coolly.

Ichigo had to tilt his head a little to look him in the eye.

“By reputation.”

“Hn. And which one would that be... exactly?”

“You're hot tempered, and entitled. You show no mercy in battle, but you're good to your people. Mostly.”

Grimmjow's eye twitched at the word, entitled. But the rest he agreed with.

“Mostly? You're referring to my poor, mistreated consorts, I presume?”

“Actually, no. Today, here....” Ichigo sat up, gesturing to the empty hall. “Some of those requests were fair ones. I don't get why you didn't approve them.”

A thin blue eyebrow rose sharply at the comment, slightly more curious than insulted.

“Well, Kurosaki Ichigo... I've got a minute,” the blue-haired royal crooned. “Why don't you enlighten me. Your views might be entertaining to hear.”

Ichigo grumbled to himself at the added slight, but proceeded to tell the King just how wrong his thinking was regarding several of the morning's issues.

Grimmjow listened with a growing frown as he rattled off point after point about the faults within the city's inner workings.

“...and with bigger rations and better quality, they'd be less inclined to fall ill so often, and would be strong enough to help out. It's good for everyone.” 

And damn that kid, if he hadn't made some good ones.

Ichigo had a grasp of the city's urban problems in a way that Grimmjow didn't. He never had the time to go mingle with the peasants and hear every single personal story of hardship and poverty. The city wasn't filthy rich, but its inhabitants were housed and clothes and fed. The daily march of minor complaints paled in comparison to the battles he and his family had fought and died in to keep the city's walls safe from breach by invaders. Trivial even.

There were always those who complained. They brought their problems to him, and with ease he brushed them off. Today especially.

X X X

Ichigo fumed. He'd been sent back to Grimmjow's room for the entire afternoon, ordered to wait until the King was done denying his peasants their perfectly reasonable requests, and in the mood to torture Ichigo some more with his perverted sex games instead.

“...strong enough to help out. It's good for everyone.” 

“Hn... I think you've had enough throne time. You're gonna be wearing my crown for me if I let you.”

He'd been effectively patted on the head.

No. Ichigo wasn't going to wear his crown. He was gonna take it, twist it, and shove the sharp, gleaming metal right up his royal...

He looked around the room, hard brown eyes searching the door, the window, the balcony.

“What the hell am I supposed to do up there all afternoon?!”

“I dunno. Read or something. I've got lots of books. There's even some tantric shit in there. Get educated.”

He had to get out of here.

X X X

Grimmjow returned to his chambers with sex on the brain. It had been a whole day without any desirable means of gratification. He did not consider his own hand a means.

He needed to sort this kid out soon. As Kisuke had eventually pointed out, Grimmjow had denied and dismissed nearly every request presented to him that day.

He strode into the room, looking for that unruly mess of orange hair with a new sense of anticipation. Things had to go better this time around.

And they might have, except...

Grimmjow stopped.

Except... 

...that...

...Ichigo didn't seem to be anywhere in sight. There were guards at the door all day so there was no way he'd... He spun around, half expecting the kid to be creeping out the door behind him. But no.

Stunned blue eyes twitched as they jumped from place to place, the open bathroom, the bed, the balcony. 

Something was missing. Something besides that kid. The King's mouth dropped from its hinges as he squinted at the centre of the room.

The bed.

His bed.

Grimmjow's head listed to the side.

Where were all his sheets?

He looked from the bed to the balcony and back again.

No. He couldn't have.

With a swear, he jerked to life and hurried across the room to confirm the impossible. Okay. Implausible. Okay. This was Ichigo, so... Possible.

He wouldn't have.

Grimmjow stopped at the entrance way, looked down at the marble flooring... and blinked.

He did.

The sheet was knotted around one of his candle holders. And said holder was wedged sideways, a precarious looking but ultimately stable affair, between two of the thick railings of his balcony, only enough room for the sheet to slip between them. It created a nice breeze, but kept the rain out. Grimmjow could also stand outside in his glory without offending or titillating any passers by with the vision needed to clearly see him from that height.

The King took three long steps, and with a deep breath, leaned out over the edge and looked straight down. He realized, as he looked for splatter, that he'd been afraid for his consort. Actually, afraid.

He growled.

Damn hell ass fired brat!

How did the kid even find enough bed sheets to reach that far? It didn't seem to make any sort of mathematical sense to Grimmjow. He leaned as far out as he could, but he couldn't make out a crop of orange. There were too many outcroppings of trim along the castle walls to get a clear view to the base of it. But the tension in the line, the minute vibrations, said that the kid was still clinging to it, deftly working his way to the bottom, and to freedom.

Once a guy like Ichigo got away into the city, Grimmjow's guards would have a hell of a time extracting him again. There was no way in hell Grimmjow was going to wait that long for sex. And Grimmjow wasn't interested in fucking anybody else but him.

His hand smacked against the railing in a rage, and within moments he was charging like hell was on his heels down the stone corridor, and heading for the ground floor two steps at a time.

X X X

He was almost there.

A few more feet and he could safely drop to the ground. He inched down, heart beating quickly still with exhilaration.

That had been fun. There had been several moments where he had thought the guards passing underneath him would look up, but the simps never did. He smirked. He'd timed it so he had plenty of time to drop and slip away from the castle walls. Once he was on a main pathway, he could just walk right out, no different from any of the other visitors enjoying early blossoms on the King's well kept grounds.

He glanced down. Close enough. And by no shortage of luck. He was out of rope, his feet hooked together in the tail-like strands of a large ball of thread. He was glad he'd thought to use the two curtain cords from the balcony drapes as a last minute addition. They hadn't tasted good between his teeth on the climb down, but it was a small price to pay to keep the whole affair from dangling in plain view of the guards.

He glanced down at the ground, judging the drop again. Perfect, just a foot off the ground. All that material must have been stretching, maybe even tearing, under his weight as he reached the bottom. Man his luck was just shining today. He was almost home fr...

Ichigo froze.

Something had poked his arm, just hard enough to twist him as he hung at the end of the line.

He felt himself turning slowly, as if on a breeze.

“You used my bath towels. And the napkins. And the cords from my drapes.”

Ichigo's expression turned from shock to a look of casual indifference.

“I had a lot of time on my hands.”

“No shit. Reading didn't appeal to you?”

Ichigo shrugged a shoulder as much as he could.

“Some of it. Then I got bored.”

Grimmjow stepped forward and hooked one finger over the collar of Ichigo's shirt, pulling him forward until their false mutual expressions of utter calm were mere inches apart. From their current positions, their eyes were perfectly level.

Grimmjow's twitched, and he glared dangerously at the other's, azure eyes dropping to his slippery consort's mouth.

“You have some fibres in your teeth.”

Ichigo obliged, opening his mouth and pulling his upper lip back. Grimmjow reached forward and deftly tugged at the long piece of frayed cord that was wedged between his front teeth.

Ichigo licked them, and nodded, twisting lazily with the rope and swinging side to side a little as his shirt was released.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

X X X

“So, here's the deal.”

Grimmjow took a healthy sip of mead from his challis as he reclined on his bed. Ichigo had retreated back out on his usual perch, the closest thing to freedom he could find.

“I won't force you, for now.”

Ichigo's head snapped around towards him, away from the dying orange glow of the setting sun. Brown eyes were pitched with angry flecks of gold, a trick of the light.

“For now? Are you sure? That's a pretty big commitment,” he sneered. “What about the meantime? I might get in the way while you're busy with your other consorts. I know how you can't go without it.”

Ichigo's tone was positively dripping with condescension.

Grimmjow ignored him in favour of imbibing more mead, the only release he could find at the moment that didn't involve self actualized hand jobs or outright violating Ichigo.

“But in return, you will continue to stay here for awhile, in this room, with me.” The until you give in, wasn't needed.

“What? Why the hell should I have to stay here?!”

Bored blue eyes grazed over Ichigo's outraged expression.

“So I can continue to enjoy the pleasure of your oh so charming company.”

“Keh. It'll be entirely your pleasure then,” Ichigo grunted, face pulling into a sulky scowl that was suited to one much younger than his years.

Grimmjow looked back to his mead.

“Indeed,” he muttered.

Still sipping on his beverage, Grimmjow tossed an extra pillow and blanket onto the floor and motioned to the swan-back couch at the far end of the room. He heard Ichigo grumble from the balcony one more time before they both fell silent for the night.


	2. Chapter 2

Accept for a few more lewd suggestions, strangely, the blue-haired warrior prince turned King hadn't made any real advances on Ichigo in the past day. To his deep relief.

He seemed hell bent on keeping Ichigo around, but he was utterly misguided if he thought Ichigo was going to give in and be one of his perverted conquests. All the blue-haired wolf wanted was to steal away his first time for his own shallow enjoyment. Nothing more.

And it wasn't just Ichigo. Grimmjow wanted first dibs on all of the city's eligible males. So typical of the rich. It was so selfish.

If his own pride didn't run so deep, Ichigo might have enjoyed the thought of spending his first time with someone like him. Even when he was being an asshole, he wasn't without his charms; power, charisma, self assurance. He was someone who, on many levels, Ichigo felt equal to, minus the crown and the years he'd need to come into his own of course.

Grimmjow was different from anybody Ichigo had ever met. And not just because of his status. No matter what cards he was dealt in life, Ichigo guessed that Grimmjow would have found himself into a position of power. Clawed his way there. Though, without the influences of people like his father, he might find his way into such shady things as to be against the powers that be, rather than with them.

That was the thing about Grimmjow. He had eyes Ichigo could understand. An ocean of strength, resolve, perseverance, and a glint of mayhem that hadn't once yet failed to put the hairs on the back of Ichigo's neck out of line.

He shifted his position on the sofa and drew his arm up behind his head, resting it in the crook of his elbow.

He couldn't sleep.

It was ridiculous really, one person all alone in a room this palatial. He felt more at home in the tight spaces of the dungeon than this stupid room that smelled of overly testosteroned male. He hoped he wouldn't be kept here against his will long enough to get used to it. That would suck.

And not just because it was a chore to be here.

His third day in the castle had been pretty good, actually. Comparatively speaking.

His first day was spent in the dungeons. And his second had seen him in the throne room and the king's chambers, then hanging off a rope that led... right back into the King's clutches.

At least, today, Grimmjow had allowed Ichigo to move around the grounds and learn the layout of the castle. He honestly shouldn’t complain. He had access to practically everywhere.

He kind of felt like royalty, or he would have if it weren't for the three guards assigned to keep him from skipping town again.

He could almost brush it off. Almost. The day had been interesting. He'd even been instructed to offer suggestions to Grimmjow if he saw any goings on in the castle that he thought might be improved upon. And this time, he wouldn't be patted on the head. It was Grimmjow's grudging promise.

When he thought about it though, as much as he was thankful for the small freedom, he was still a prisoner, and at the end of the day he told Grimmjow exactly what he thought.

“S'matter? I gave you a fucking guided tour of the palace. You think this is a fucking carnival? That anyone can just wander in and nose around my home? I could keep you in the dungeon until you break, you know!”

“Can't you get anyone to sleep with you of their own free will? Or is by force your only option?”

“...”

Grimmjow fizzled and spat for nearly ten long seconds before he steamrolled out of the room, door slamming shut so hard, Ichigo swore he'd never hear again.

Ichigo drew his blanket up against the nighttime's growing chill. It was a cool one tonight, and the fire hadn't been stoked for awhile. He expected that Grimmjow would add one last log to the flames before he retired.

But the bed far across the room lay empty.

The moment he'd said the words, Ichigo had felt his gut telling him he'd taken it a bit too far. He'd been right on the mark. But still. Grimmjow really was trying to be nice, in his own, I'm the alpha 'round here kind of way.

Ichigo rolled onto his side and watched the fire's desperate attempts to cling to the floor, the ceiling, the sheets of the neatly made bed. He tossed his blanket back and sat up, the nip in the air raising the flesh of his skin. He may as well be the one to feed the fire one last log before he hopefully succumbed to sleep himself. Grimmjow wouldn't enjoy coming home to a freezing bedchamber.

He wasn't going to apologize for his remarks, but he could at least do that much.

He settled the wood onto the dying embers of Grimmjow's fire and returned to his bed, watching as the fire sparked, then began to climb back to life.

He closed his eyes and willed himself to drift off, Grimmjow's image the last thing on his mind before he went, the smallest of smiles on his lips.

It was sort of sweet the way he clung so desperately to the one thing he couldn't have. Hopeless, but sweet.

X X X

The next day saw a distinct change in Ichigo's schedule. 

Shutting a man of Ichigo's temperament inside his chambers the entire day had been cruel and overall not wise. Obviously.

And Grimmjow was nothing if not adaptable. Giving him a guided tour of the castle was, in Grimmjow's opinion a worthy gift, though in Ichigo's opinion, it was apparently just... a start.

It was clear that Ichigo needed some action. Not the kind Grimmjow wanted to give him... but still, something where he could stretch his feathers and pick up a broader range of the skills he seemed so quick to absorb.

So, the bluenet had set up a real treat. Training with his elite guards. The best swordsmen in the entire valley.

Grimmjow had expected a muted response at best, convinced that Ichigo would never show any form of gratitude to him, lest it give Grimmjow the wrong idea and serve to kindle his desire to bed him.

At least, that's what Grimmjow had anticipated. But for a moment, Ichigo had been so pumped he could hardly respond with words when Grimmjow had mentioned it that morning.

The only caveat was that the session wouldn't start until later in the day.

That was fine with Ichigo. Just fine. There was plenty for him to do until then. He would check out more of the castle. He would help the groundskeepers with their chores. He could point out the weak spots in the guards patrol...

Or maybe he would read.

Grimmjow had been pleasantly surprised up until then. But at that, and the subtle shift in tone at his consort's declaration, his lungs had given up their air on him. He was sure it was an innocent comment, had to be, but just the thought of Ichigo even thinking about it... Well... when he'd left Ichigo to perform his morning ablutions in private and go about filling his day, Grimmjow had grinned all the way down the hall.

. . .

It wasn't until the height of the day when Grimmjow finally cracked and put a temporary end to his meetings. Out in the rear courtyard, Ichigo had been training under the guidance of the King's finest warriors for several hours. The bluenet was more than a little curious to see how far along he'd come. He claimed he could use a sword, but in a real fight a simple lift and swing of a sharp blade were nothing without the skill to use it.

And so, Grimmjow had jumped into the sparring session as a mid afternoon break. He'd been moving through his meetings a little faster than usual anyway. He found it became much easier when one said yes to every reasonable thing. He could spend a lot more time with his future consort, and less of it hearing repeated requests.

Grimmjow had watched in silence from the doorway for only a few seconds before he was noticed and the training came to a natural break. The guards bowed and praised the young man's aptitude, and he snorted. That would be for Grimmjow to decide. With a nod, Grimmjow had challenged the younger man with as much serious intent as he could.

What could a boy really do with a sword against an experienced warrior?

“Alright, kid. Show me what you've got.” He smirked. When Ichigo hesitated to raise his sword, Grimmjow tilted his head and graced him with a light bow, tucking a hand behind himself. “I'll even keep one arm behind my back.”

Ichigo's expression grew from wary, eyes narrowing, to hostile.

“I told you. I'm not a kid.”

“Common then.” Grimmjow grinned shark-like, and his blade swept across the tip of Ichigo's sword to egg him forward. That's all it took.

Ichigo lunged, but Grimmjow easily dodged to the side. The King looked to his men and shrugged his shoulders, giving them a look that said, “what have you been doing for the past two hours?”

He flashed an assured smile and stalked around the orangette, twirling his sword in his hand. Arms raised. Taunting. Open as he could be.

“Che.” He sneered. “You call that a thrust?”

Ichigo scowled, eyes darkening with insult. He followed his slow stride, looking for a tell in the movements of his body, and then... swung again.

The blades struck and slid, the metallic ringing loud as they ground together. Ichigo grunted as they connected. And suddenly, he'd lost control of his movements. His blade was caught... Grimmjow dragging him up hard and fast, and close enough to nip and tug at his bottom lip with a row of sharp teeth before roughly shoving him back.

Ichigo winced, stumbling a few steps back till he regained his footing. He dragged his arm across his lip, an action less about taking away the sting than it was about trading one insult for another. His face was blazing with heat from the almost kiss. But he didn't have the luxury of throwing a fit about it.

Azure eyes were predatory now.

“Hah! A swing like that won't do shit to me!” His voice had dropped, grinding with excitement, the sound more a feral growl. “C'monnn, boyyy. Show me I haven't been wasting my precious resources on the likes of a simpering pup.”

“Keh. When have I ever simpered?” Ichigo seethed back. He straightened, drawing his shoulders back and pulling his sword up into an offensive hold.

“I'll show you just how far I've come,” he warned, blistering chestnut eyes full of lawless intentions that made Grimmjow's inner beast boil and writhe with glee.

In seconds they were lost in battle, the first test thrusts and suggestions from the King quickly forgotten as the tension rose inside the large courtyard. Grimmjow heard himself snarl as he parried a heavy hit from above with the flat of his blade, then attacked. And Ichigo growled and cursed as he was pushed back step after step, the burning in his arms driving deep into his muscles as he struggled to defend himself.

The heavy clash of metal rang through the courtyard for long minutes, until Ichigo, irritated to shit and breathing hard, dropped and spun, kicking out and catching Grimmjow's ankle enough to make him stumble. Then he shot forward and swung high....

...Nearly taking Grimmjow's head off in the process.

Only his agility had saved him from the bite of Ichigo's broad reckless swing.

He'd been relieved of his sword after that.

Vexed brown eyes travelled up along the endless blade of gleaming steel, his own hand and sword flat against the ground beneath Grimmjow's boot. He was panting heavily, exhausted for the moment. He didn't quite know how he'd ended up on the ground when he'd finally had the advantage, but he already wanted to go again. As his eyes found their way up to the owner of the blade, a crown of tussled, spiky blue hair and a genuine, sideways grin came into focus. Ichigo could only stare.

“Not bad... for a first timer.” The King turned to go, calling out to his guards as he passed them by. “I know you didn't teach him that.” He twirled a hand in the air as he left. “Again tomorrow, then.”

He was just off the teat, at times green and wild, but he was good. Natural. With his own style. And he was going to get a lot better. Grimmjow had swelled with pride at the thought of such an adept consort, someone, who, if the need should one day arise, could fight along side him in battle. Not cower in the safety of the castle. He imagined it would be the death of him, though, as he'd be more inclined to protect his mate than himself.

It was relatively late in the evening when Grimmjow finally made it back to his room. He hadn't even realized that he'd come so close to kissing his student until it was over and he'd come down off his battle high. The thought of it lingered on his mind all afternoon and into the evening, the realization that he never really had a moment to savour his precious consort. It had just happened too fast, and he had barely had a taste of him, not nearly enough to swallow him down.

The thought left him unsatisfied, stirring up his hunger for the consort that by all rights he should have already enjoyed.

Grimmjow was hoping to have another crack at the kid, but he had to admit that the end of the day had brought a certain weariness with it. The sun had set early, dark clouds filling in the sky. A soft rain had set in, the constant whisper of it against the loose leafy vines that climbed up the walls of his castle and crept past his chambers, soothing against his mind.

As he entered the room, he looked to the couch. But it was empty. He glanced at the closed doors to the balcony, but he knew Ichigo wouldn't be sitting out in the rain. Was he in the bathroom then, he wondered.

Grimmjow walked across the expanse of lush carpet and slowed to a standstill.

Something was wrong with his bed.

Again.

But this time, the sheets were present. Everything was accounted for, and more.

Ichigo was in it. Rather on it. Sleeping as soundly as if it were his own.

He was on his stomach, wearing only his pants. After that...

Skin.

A map of faded scars across a soft sun kissed landscape. Nothing so grotesque as a knife wound, just the scrapes of rock and stick from the tussling of a fearless and well worn youth.

Things that would still fade with time.

Grimmjow's tongue flicked across dry lips.

Or, he could kiss them away.

He moved to the side and sat down, his weight heavy on the bed. It shook and the sheets rustled as he pulled off his boots, then his shirt. The younger man stirred and mumbled something incoherent, but didn't wake. Grimmjow stared for a long moment. He looked so peaceful, so at odds with the independent rebel Grimmjow knew him to be.

He stood and shrugged out of his pants, their usually loose fit now a little snug.

The taught skin of his naked body rising into tiny bumps from the cool air, he slid onto the bed and lay down next to his sleeping consort. He could only see him by the light of the candles and the fireplace. But it was enough to keep him from ever looking away. It slid over his skin like liquid gold, caressing the rise of his covered bottom and flickering over his shoulders.

The light, a seductress. It temped him, licking the sleeping young man's cheeks and soft parted lips.

But darkened azure were drawn back to the place the flame chose to leave untouched. The small of his back, dipping into the shadows, a curve that called to his instincts. A place he would caress with his bare hands as he filled his lover.

He held his hand out over the hidden skin, feeling the warmth rise from his consort's body. 

It was curious and rousing. As if he could reach into the dark space and there would be nothing there. Until he was there to fill it.

God. He wanted to touch.

X X X

Ichigo turned from the balcony ledge he was balanced on and the book he'd been reading and watched with suspicion as Grimmjow entered the room and swept towards him with purpose. It was only mid morning, and Grimmjow didn't take a break until noon.

He wondered if Grimmjow was going to give him a hard time for falling asleep on his bed.

He hadn't meant to, of course. He just wanted to feel the comforts of a real bed for a few minutes, before Grimmjow returned. Turned out it was very comfortable. And it smelled nice too. The combination had made him feel oddly relaxed, at home, safe, despite how unsafe he should have felt. And odd because of the near blood lust he'd felt only hours before as they'd crossed swords. It was like he'd really been fighting for his life. The thrill of the fresh memory had washed over him as he lay on the bed and he'd burrowed deeper into the sheets. And the next thing he knew, he'd woken to the mid-morning sun, the fact that hadn't been alone evidenced by the strewn sheets beside him. Yet, he'd been left to sleep on, undisturbed.

The taller male slowed only long enough to grab the back of a wooden chair. He twisted it around and placed it on the floor just inside the room and gestured with his free hand.

“Sit.”

Ichigo blinked at the chair. He gave Grimmjow a considering look, and with a frown, slid slowly from the balcony terrace.

Then he sat.

It was never Ichigo's intention to be belligerent without cause. He had no problem doing things that were part of a reasonable request. He just didn't think bending over and being fucked up the ass by a near stranger for a lark qualified as a reasonable request.

Ichigo watched Grimmjow begin to pace casually, and as his interest grew, so did his sense of foreboding.

The King of Hueco Mundo tapped a finger to his lips as he took a few strides one way and a few strides the other, before he finally stopped in front of the orange-haired youth and gave Ichigo his divine attention again.

“I have a very good reason why you should accept my request.”

Ichigo felt his back slump. Of course. This again.

“You mean your order,” Ichigo snorted, sound derisive and almost guttural. To emphasize his position, he folded his arms across his chest and straightened himself where he sat.

A muscle in Grimmjow's jaw tightened, and something impatient shifted behind his eyes before he gathered it all back and composed himself. It was that perpetual fire that almost made him want to get into Ichigo the most. He could feel himself stirring because of it.

He shrugged casually.

“Whatever.”

He folded his arms, mimicking his stubborn consort, and then he waited in smug silence until Ichigo finally gave in and asked with a look of annoyance.

“So? What's your reason,” he snapped, looking off to the side and grumbling. “As if it will change anything.”

Grimmjow snorted at the childlike response, trying not to laugh out loud, and he had to take a moment to realign his thoughts. He had to hit him with logic. The kid didn't bow easily to his hormones... his urges. He'd been drawn to Grimmjow's bed for a reason. He had them, but he fought them. Like a warrior. It wasn't a specific dislike of Grimmjow. No. He simply didn't bow to anyone. And that little thought just made Grimmjow's cock twitch all the harder.

“Precedence,” he declared. Hard brown eyes shot back to him.

“What?'” Ichigo glared, suspicion and irritating flaring.

Grimmjow remained unfazed. Pretty much anything and everything that came out of Grimmjow's mouth in this conversation would be met with that. But he was a patient guy. Well... no, he wasn't. But today, something in him seemed to come alive. It seemed if it involved this orange-haired brat, he could deal. He could be as patient as a fucking tree. He didn't know how he could. He just knew he wanted to. As much as he was suffering with need after days of no release, getting inside that tight, lithe body would be worth the wait. Grimmjow felt a grin spreading out, but he held it together for the sake of the point he was making.

He was being serious here.

“You owe it to your kingdom not to set a bad precedence.”

Total bullshit.

“I... what?” Ichigo blinked, but said nothing else, baited and waiting for some kind of explanation.

“If you don't follow your King's commands,” Grimmjow replied smoothly, voice silky, “then what do you think happens?”

Ichigo's brows lowered and he shrugged indifferently.

“I don't know. You throw me in the dungeon again as an example, I guess.”

Grimmjow smirked. The kid acted like he didn't care. He was so damn brave.

“No. I don't. I don't do anything to you.” Ichigo held his gaze, trying to look unaffected, like he wasn't as confused as he felt. But Grimmjow knew better. “I already said, I'm not gonna punish you again. I won't force you...” His azure eyes flashed, a warning that his patience had an end, “for now.”

Ichigo stiffened, but kept up his silent glare.

“Knowing that, if you choose to be disobedient and you're not punished, and others find out, then you will be setting a very dangerous precedent for the masses. A ruler without power is not a ruler. A leader without respect, even less so. And without a King to rule and lead, our people will be lost and our fair city's walls will fall, Ichigo.”

He saw the slow crest of understanding darken the brown eyes that looked warily up at him.

“Is it really worth it to be disobedient to your King? To think only of yourself and risk our way of life?”

Grimmjow leaned in and placed his hands on the arms of the chair Ichigo was sitting in, trapping him with his body as efficiently as with his words. He could hear his resistant consort's breathing quicken at his proximity, could smell his scent, natural and clean, like a stir of summer air over fresh cut fields, or a breeze off the lake after the rain. So, pleasant. He wanted to clear up the distance between them, but he kept his focus.

“And you and I both know that people always have a way of finding out these things, don't they Ichigo?”

Grimmjow watched smooth, beautiful lips part as the information was processed.

“So, you see... Ichigo...”, he hummed, leaning in close enough that he could see the pulse of his neck just under his skin, “whether the kingdom falls into chaos or not... is up to you.”

Grimmjow slowly took his hands from the arms of the chair and straightened.

Brown eyes had fled to the side, almost seeing sense in the words. It was tradition. It was law. Grimmjow was only a King if his people followed.

Without a King like Grimmjow to lead them, the city's walls would crumble and it would be conquered. And many a man, woman and child would die in the process. All because...

All because Ichigo wouldn't lay down for his King.

His consort remained silent, but inhospitable amber brown eyes had turned upwards. And Grimmjow felt scolded by them. Almost in defence, he folded his arms. He cocked his head, lips scrunching in distaste while he chewed on the inside of his mouth. After a moment of silently being turned to ash, Grimmjow swallowed a resigned sigh, expression flat, unsurprised.

“Still not gonna bite, are ya.”

“No.”

“Hn. Wanna fuck anyway?”

“No.”


	3. Chapter 3

Grimmjow had had enough.

The familiar feel of the cursed throne at his back had had him fidgeting and drumming his fingers for most of the morning like a kid who'd eaten too many sweets. And so, at noon he'd decided to do something he'd hadn't done since he'd been ordained.

He decided to take the rest of the day off.

They hadn't really spoken after that mid-morning break and Grimmjow's latest attempt to sway Ichigo into his bed. Ichigo had mumbled that he needed some air, but before he'd been allowed to leave Grimmjow had simply undressed in front of him and thrown on a new set of clean pants and a shirt. He didn't need to, of course. It was just a dirty tactic he felt like employing in the face of Ichigo's blunt refusal to copulate. A dirty tactic, but an enjoyable one. Ichigo had turned his head away, but a blush that had reached his ears had told Grimmjow he'd allowed himself to see enough to give himself wet dreams.

It was only fitting if he had, that Grimmjow shouldn't be the only one to suffer in want. But dammit to hell if that wasn't Grimmjow's fantasy now, wondering if Ichigo had even once pleasured himself to thoughts of his King. His mind was a playground of images of what dirty little indiscretions the proud young man might take up behind closed doors. It was his own damn fault, but Grimmjow's attention span was well and truly shot, and he hadn't been able to keep his concentration on the issues presented to him all morning.

Vivid daydreams aside, he truly wanted to spend time with Ichigo. So, he'd sent a guard to locate the orangette, who was probably enjoying the sunshine out on the grounds. Grimmjow wanted to join him. They could walk the grounds and talk for awhile. Then he would watch over his training later in the day, maybe even spar with him again. ...Definitely.

He shuddered as he remembered Ichigo's face when he'd been nipped. The mix of shock and anger tethered only by his will to fight. And to win.

Grimmjow's head had been swimming with anticipation as he'd left the throne room, and his steps were light and fast as he headed through the halls towards his chambers to change into something more suited to a casual day and some sword play.

But that was this morning.

And so much had changed since then.

He was back.

By the God's graces and the skin of his own teeth, he was back.

A day that had begun in a mundane manner had ended in a spray of blood.

The bodies of their enemies had been left to rot, strung from the trees that tended over golden wheat fields which lay an hour by horse beyond the city's walls. A warning to the rest.

He shouldn't have been surprised, really. It had happened so often it was almost a matter of course. Grimmjow hadn't made it halfway to his chambers before he'd been interrupted by a flurry of panicked voices. When he looked back, it was to a group of four minor guards who had clattered together at an intersection of halls and then rushed, helmets still askew, up behind him.

If it weren't for their expressions, he might have laughed.

“My lord! It is urgent!” They'd practically skidded as they'd fallen to their knees, out of breath and shaken.

He'd turned abruptly, one long sharp strand of hair falling across cold blue eyes, voice hard like granite.

“Speak.”

Grimmjow's blood had iced over through and through as he took in the news, but it was not his place to feel fear. He'd immediately barked out orders to three of the guards to retrieve Ichigo from wherever the hell it was that he was at and confine him to their chambers.

“He does not leave that room,” he'd warned. “If anything gets through, you will defend his life as you would your own.”

The other he'd sent to gather his men. And as he'd begun to stalk away towards the armoury, he'd turned back to the three he'd put in charge of his consort's safety.

“Have the cook send up his finest fare. And make sure he goes for want of nothing.” He took a few more steps, and stopped.

“And if I don't return... release him.”

He'd moved fast after that. The elite guards and a large group of regular guards had raced to greet the unwelcome guests. They only needed one to slip inside the city's walls, and it would be chaos. Blood. And death. And chaos.

Intelligence had spotted a small group of soldiers approaching, their heavy armour and pale skin a telltale sign of their origins and intentions.

Hollows.

Savage. Thirsty for the flesh and souls of any kingdom in their path. So violent and misplaced, they couldn't function in anything more than small groups.

And Grimmjow had risen to meet them, the cold bite of his sword their welcome.

X X X

The sun was hanging just above the hills as Grimmjow moved down the corridor, his features angry enough to send servants scurrying in the opposite direction if they were so unfortunate as to come upon him.

He ached in a dull, but persistent way that told him he was alive, had survived... minor muscles and major ones, strained from the abrupt twisting, the sudden lunges and retreats, every one of them vital, every one of them a bid to save his own life... and if not to avoid a lethal blow, then to deliver one.

Grimmjow didn't call on his warriors to defend him. Though he knew they wouldn't listen, his orders were always clear. He could handle himself equally well, if not better. And he wanted his men's attention on themselves. On their ultimate goal.

Win the battle. Deal with the fall out later. Losing men for his own life never truly settled well in his stomach, no matter how much easy air and bravado he managed to exude.

They'd lost men today. Men who'd loyally served their crown for years.

They died with honour, the way they would have wanted to, but it still weighed on Grimmjow's shoulders for the time being. He hadn't the luxury of wallowing in their loss, not that wallowing was his style. And they would never approve of such pitiful indulgences. So, even as mournful and vengeful as he felt, he kept his head raised for himself, for the people, for them. They would be remembered. And celebrated. As heroes.

Because of their efforts, and ultimately their sacrifice, everything that Grimmjow cherished was safe for now.

Everything.

Grimmjow huffed a sigh, an attempt to expel excess energy he didn't really possess. Jitters was more like it. His body was still reacting to every sound and movement around him, had been for hours since they'd engaged the Hollow's and won.

To think, his morning had begun with such promise, his soon to be bed partner by his side, where he belonged, the taste of his skin that much closer in Grimmjow's mind. Ichigo may not have meant to fall asleep on Grimmjow's bed the other night, but his actions practically screamed of offering.

The bluenet rounded a corner and slowed as he remembered the hard on he'd had that morning, how he'd fought tooth and nail the urge to use his own hand to ease the ache while watching Ichigo sleep.

Grimmjow had been moving through the corridors without giving a thought to it, the familiar route to his room mapped into his mind.

But now he slowed, and then he stopped. He almost had to wonder, with all that was on his mind, where this trail of explicit thoughts had come from so suddenly.

With a look, he dismissed the guards that had waited so many hours in the hall by his chambers. He would have paid them more gratitude for their good work, but something else had suddenly captured his full attention.

Even from behind the closed doorway, Grimmjow could tell the scent inside the room was heavy. Noticeable. Grimmjow couldn't help it. He hummed as he breathed it in through loosely clenched teeth, an almost smokey, pungent taste rolling like thick cream down the back of his tongue. He swallowed it down, and felt a near urge to purr.

The young man on the other side of those solid oak doors was coming into heat.

His scent so God damn powerful, it was bleeding through the walls. A scent only Grimmjow could detect.

As the meaning of it dawned on him, Grimmjow felt some of the colour drain from his skin, only to return with an added flush.

None of his consorts had ever done that. As rare of an event as it was, Urahara had made sure they were not already bonded and fertile when offered to him. His advisor would never be so careless with his Kingdom's blood. Neither would Grimmjow, the very reason he never finished inside his consorts, their stomachs and backs his gratification's pallet.

He was cautious with his release, wary of inciting a consort's heat, even though it was well known that only the combination of two things could force it out. A strong mutual lust. And a bond.

That meant that despite his protests and repeated claims to the contrary, Ichigo was indeed affected by him.

Deliciously so.

And this heat had fully flared to life in just the few short hours of Grimmjow's absence. Since Grimmjow had had him pinned to the chair? Since Grimmjow had revealed himself to him fully? Had that been Ichigo's downfall? Grimmjow would feel awfully smug if it was.

His hand caressed the knotted wood of the door, fingers running along the emblematic relief carved into the wood.

Perhaps though, it had been brewing all along, and Ichigo was just stubborn enough to suppress it. Well, he wasn't doing a very good job of it now, was he?

Never was a grin so wide and full of impure, earthly intent.

Azure eyes nearly glowed blue fire as instincts reared.

The time for games was over. The day had been a violent reminder that the life they lived could be cut short so fast. Everything cherished, taken away. Everything loved, lost.

They'd been stepping around each other for days, but the song they moved to was only a greeting tune, a territorial display.

He had been going about it all wrong. This dance was always about dominance and submission, a tender balance of pride and acceptance.

He needed to take what Ichigo wanted to give him but was too stubborn to.

He'd proven his worth to him as a leader of his great city. But that wasn't enough for Ichigo. So, he'd shown the younger man he could be thoughtful, fair, tolerant. He had tried to show him he regarded him with the respect and appreciation he deserved. The young man had taken the reigns of his own life as much as Grimmjow had in his, after all. And he owed him a debt for being fearless and speaking his mind, Grimmjow's eyes now opened further to the needs of his people.

And the fruits of his efforts were paying off. His senses were on fire, tuned into one person alone.

Desire hung in the air as thick and churning as the clouds that crowned the great peaks surrounding their kingdom, and as oppressive and encompassing as the fog that crouched in the valleys below.

Ichigo's desire. It wasn't just Grimmjow. They were both swimming in it. His need surged, the stab of hunger denied for far too long building in his mind like a teeth-baring growl.

He had gone five full days without sex, five days without burying himself in that one flawless and pure untouched heat. He was damned if he would let there be a sixth. 

Hand nearly trembling with deepest primal avarice, Grimmjow carefully turned the latch on the door to his room, and silently stepped inside.

X X X

What a load of horse shit.

The young man with hair like wild fire was back at his post on the balcony, wondering what was happening in the world beneath him.

And with it.

What a guy. That blue-haired asshole had actually thought Ichigo was going to swallow that load of shit? Precedence his ass. If that was the only reason Grimmjow could come up with to get Ichigo to...

Ichigo bowed his head, shoulders sagging as he leaned on folded arms against the railing.

He was going around the rails for the tenth time, grasping.

He knew exactly what was going on in the world beneath him.

Ichigo had been primed to escape out the window again when he'd first been rounded up from the grounds and taken back to Grimmjow's chambers. He'd been told to stay put. That was it. All Ichigo knew was that Grimmjow had promised him more training with his men in the afternoon, and for some reason he had reneged. He would have assumed he was being punished for denying him again, but that didn't seem right. It wasn't until lunch had arrived at noon and he'd broken down and eaten some of it that one of the guards had apologized and informed him of the tense situation.

Grimmjow had taken his men into battle against Hollow's. It didn't matter that their groups were usually small. Every Hollow fought with the strength and speed of at least five men. And they were vicious, deranged, cannibals, just as soon to take a bite out of their prey as carve them up with sword and spear.

Knowing did little to improve his mood. A stone the size of Grimmjow's throne had been sitting in Ichigo's stomach ever since. And he felt half sick because his worry was combined with butterflies every time he thought of him. How could he be thinking of that at a time like this?

He didn't want to leave. He had to leave.

As each day passed, he'd found he was trying not to be attracted to the bluenet. He couldn't deny that he had a physical appeal. Truth was, and Ichigo had seen it for himself thanks to Grimmjow's vainglorious display earlier in the day, every inch of him was so hot, it felt immoral to see it.

Never mind that the guy had sent up a tray of the castle's finest cuisine which smelled so mouthwatering it could only be described as food porn. Ichigo had tried to turn his nose up at that too, but he was in an even greater stubborn contest with his stomach, the latter making so many disagreeable noises that he quickly gave in and sampled some of the fare.

As if he could be won over by food. But it wasn't the food that was the point now was it.

And that was a problem. Ichigo was less pissed with Grimmjow now than he was with himself. Because he hadn't found a way out of this, and he could feel himself changing. He desired his company, had done for days, even if he appeared miserable in it.

But that was just a side effect. Had to be. Because, of all the stupid things, he was coming into heat for the first time. He hadn't done that before. Only a strong mutual attraction could bring it on. But he was educated. He knew the signs, and this had to be one of them.

Grimmjow was attractive. He was smart. He was playful. He moved like a hunter and was built like a warrior. And in Ichigo's mind, he had eyes that prowled and wanted. Eyes that Ichigo could never forget. Because as much as they belonged to a King, they didn't. And as much he loathed the very idea of it, Ichigo wanted that crude and boorish attention on him again.

Ichigo was actually thinking these things. It was awful. It was the heat's fault. Which in turn was Grimmjow's fault.

That damn bluenet had a strong interest in him, more than just a lust for him, even if neither of them had really known it. Well, it was clear that Ichigo's body had sure as hell picked up on the scent of hormones in overdrive, a desire to mate, even if he himself hadn't. And that was the only thing that could have triggered his heat.

Ichigo was a mess and he knew it.

In a moment he felt anxiety and longing. In the next, he was angry. All for reasons he couldn't quite grasp. He was genuinely worried for the blue-haired noble. The overconfident idiot, who'd gone running off into a violent battle, leaving Ichigo sitting on his ass worrying over the stupid prick. What if he didn't come back? They had a fight to finish, didn't they? Did he expect Ichigo to just forget him and move on, live without him, without ever feeling...

Damn him to hell.

He had no place to channel his energy. He'd been trying all day, but he couldn't just shake it off. It came in waves. Each one deeper and warmer than the last. The growing desire to explore his heat with Grimmjow.

Amidst the turbulence of worry and annoyance, Ichigo felt like pacing, like his insides were restless and needed to be... stroked.

He'd been damned if he'd ever admit it aloud, but he was actually pining for his... Ki-... for Grimmjow.

And the only way to keep it in check was to sit out here on the balcony and watch the city's people go about their busy lives in the square below.

There. He felt better now. The view was awesome from up here, high enough to see beyond the city's walls to the green hills and snow topped mountains in the distance, but not so high as to miss the little thief just beyond the nearest wall who had picked his third pocket for the day.

He could see how Grimmjow could enjoy this vantage point.

Ichigo's hands tightened around the thick smooth railing, palms caressing the silky polished marble... like hard muscle under smooth skin...

He let it go like it had burned him and made a fist against it instead.

He just had to keep his mind busy and stay in control. Which was getting pretty damn hard to do when he was locked in this stupid palatial room until the King deigned to let him out again. If he ever would. Of course he would. He was coming back. He had to come back. The were supposed to spar again today. Grimmjow had a promise to keep. And who the hell was he to keep Ichigo locked in here like he was so fucking breakable anyway? It was emasculating.

That's it. He was gone! Over the damn balcony again if he had to.

Stupid King. Stupid Grimmjow.

Why couldn't he just accept that Ichigo wanted no part of his stupid games? Why couldn't he just pass Ichigo over and take some other consort? Hadn't that always been his way, anyway? To take a new virgin every night? The city was huge and the supply was endless. What would it matter that he didn't have Ichigo for one stupid night.

It was just one night.

His hand went to his stomach.

What would it matter if it was just one night? Sex with a King with a body like a warrior and a smile like the devil... would feel so SO good. His body was whispering to him over and over...

It would feel so SO....

Ichigo gasped and took a small step away from the edge of the balcony, heel of his foot moving back for balance.

He felt light headed. He was losing his battle, letting himself get out of control. He could smell Grimmjow. Could almost feel his heat at his back. Could hear his... breathing?

All at once, Ichigo felt himself centre.

“You tried to protect me,” he stated simply, eyes fixed on the city. He didn't turn around.

“I needed you safe.”

The voice behind him was low, roughened from the hoarse cries of the battlefield... just that, not the emotions running through it. He matched it.

“I don't need protecting.”

“Hnn. Normally, I'd agree. But you do from the creatures I fought today,” he said seriously. “They were Hollows, Ichigo. We barely defeated them. But... if it helps, I'm sorry.”

Sorry wasn't a word that Grimmjow kept well in his vocabulary. But this was Ichigo. And only an idiot would have missed that he had wounded Ichigo's pride. If he could help it, he wouldn't step on it again.

Ichigo looked back over his shoulder, his face placid. He could hear the sincerity, but he wanted to see it too. Just to see it. The bruise on Grimmjow's temple and the scuff on his jaw weren't lost to him from the awkward angle, and his brows drew together. He paused before he turned away again.

“You won.”

Grimmjow gave a half snort.

“You doubted me?”

“...”

Grimmjow sighed quietly. Of course Ichigo was not amused. He'd been worried, hadn't he. And he'd had good reason to be.

He reached out, backs of his fingers longing to skim along the side of that set jaw. He let them drop.

“Yes. This time. The kingdom is safe, for now.”

Ichigo glanced back without turning at all. The quaver in Grimmjow's voice was naked, even in its stubborn resilience. There was something, a feeling of loss that clung to the space around him.

Grimmjow wouldn't tell. And Ichigo wouldn't ask. Even if he didn't already know what had happened to Grimmjow's men... the losses... he could tell.

“You're hurt.”

The warrior King leaned in, resting his chin against the crown of Ichigo's head, not a gesture to be taken as a slight, but as a refuge of consolation. He'd gotten off so easy.

“A scratch.” He gave a small shrug. Ichigo didn't see it, but he could feel it.

Grimmjow took a deep breath, Ichigo's scent pulling in with the evening air, and moved his body closer. His voice lowered further as he cleared away the rest of the space between them.

“The view is amazing from here... isn't it... Ichigo.”

Ichigo shuddered as heavy hands came to rest on his shoulders, strong fingers digging into his muscles before sliding down along his bare, lean arms to gently link with his own. His movements were slow, but the bluenet's touches had a sense of urgency to them. The fallout of a too-close battle.

“Maybe,” he murmured, voice nearly lost to the hot tongue that, as if it had any right to be there, lapped a warm path up the side of his neck.

Ichigo's mind suddenly scrambled as his insides came back to life and... Oh God. He really was in his heat. The bluenet's scent and sexuality had pulled it out from deep inside him. He was worse than the bloody pickpocket in the market.

He could feel his need stirring again as they came together. He didn't know if it would save him or doom him. Grimmjow wouldn't want to breed a simple consort. So, maybe he would back off, knowing the dangers. But... he would have scented it in the air by now. And he was still here. Pressing so close.

Damn him.

“I think it's amazing.” The purr came with a hot languid kiss to the base of Ichigo's neck which spread itself across his nerves, rushing, falling, screaming obscenities all the way down into his core.

“Imagine if every night could be like this one...”

Hands tightened, and strong arms squeezed against Ichigo in a possessive embrace, his elbows locked at his sides. He couldn't move, and his instincts were suddenly singing that he liked not being able to move.

The Ichigo he knew himself to be was still inside, and he wanted to fight it, not relax into it, but sharp teeth were suddenly dragging their way with care around the curve of his neck, and he let his head fall to the side, opening to the gentle assault.

The screams of warning in his head had dropped to a whisper. The Hollow's were relentless. Grimmjow's time could be short. His line ended. Perhaps... Ichigo could... they could... one day... But, is that what Grimmjow wanted? With him?

“Nnn,” he grunted, noncommittal. His spine had gone weak. He closed his eyes and let his head drop forward, a gesture of retreat, almost shrugging away from the dangerous touch. But Grimmjow's mouth only followed.

“...every night... in this room... with me.”

Ichigo's eyes fluttered, lazy and slow to open, as the evening shadow's finally overtook the dusk sun, and the city beneath them turned to flickers of false starlight. Not naturally come by, but beautiful still.

Brown eyes finally focused on the hands entwining with his own. His brain nudged him. Grimmjow had said something, hadn't he.

“...every... night?” he murmured.

“Of course. I don't want anyone else.” He punctuated his sentiment with gentle bite.

“Bull... shitting... You'll say anything to get what you want.” Ichigo breathed between swallowed sighs as Grimmjow took up his assault again and nuzzled the nape of his neck. How had the man found his sweet spot so easily? And why was he torturing Ichigo so relentlessly? And how had leaning back against him and allowing himself to be touched so intimately become so comfortable, effortless.

“I probably will, but I'm not. I'm not really a bad guy, am I... Ichigo.” Grimmjow murmured into Ichigo's ear, lips whispering against the soft lobe of curved flesh. It caused a tickle Ichigo could feel rush down through him, then surge up again like a tidal swell from the base of his stirring erection.

“You know I mean what I say,” the bluenet rumbled. “Or haven't I proven myself to you yet? Do I need to show you how much I want you... Ichigo?”

Ichigo shuddered. Grimmjow just had to keep doing that. If he kept saying his name like that, rolling it off his tongue, husking it across his skin, he was going to come undone.

Or maybe he already had. He wanted Grimmjow's breath to ghost across all of his skin, wanted to feel exposed, needed to be touched.

“Take this off.” Ichigo's command was unexpected. “It's too hot.”

Grimmjow's breathing faltered for a moment. Then he hummed in agreement and reached down to lift Ichigo's shirt up over his head, letting it fall to the balcony floor. Ichigo's body heat poured from him as he leaned back into the King. But it wasn't enough. He took the moment to rid himself of his own top, letting that heat reach his own bare chest.

The world around them seemed to sigh.

Grimmjow's roughened hands crawled over Ichigo's shoulders, down along his chest towards his flat stomach, one hand creeping further to his navel. On a mission. It lingered there, running in circles over warm skin, searching, imagining the small hollow space that lay beneath smooth skin. His palm caressed it.

Ichigo's stomach shuddered and he arched his back, head falling against Grimmjow. Why did that feel so SO good? Like Grimmjow needed to be there for the world to be right.

“I'm going to make you feel so good tonight Ichigo...”

Yes.

“You're body will cry out for mine to fill it. You will be calling for your King. Begging for me to make you whole.”

And suddenly. No.

“I... I don't recognize you... as my... King, Grimmjow. Not... like that.”

“Mmmm... Filthy little liar. Even though you protest... my name sounds so wanton coming from your lips. Your voice crumbles around it, like it's both a curse and something that could save you.”

“Keh. I told you. I don't need... saving.”

“Then curse it. I like it when you resist.”

Ichigo pulled away and turned to face him, heat in his face that made Grimmjow's muscles ready themselves to deflect a punch, wary that he might just strike out.

And he did, but instead of a fist, an open palm slipped past Grimmjow's shoulder (and how he did it, he'd never know) to grasp the back of his neck.

“Then I'll make it so you won't like it.”

Grimmjow eye's widened and suddenly Ichigo was pulling himself up, or Grimmjow down. Whichever it was it didn't matter because he was being kissed. Hard.

A moment later, he could breath again. Thinking though. That was not so easy. He stood there like an idiot, looking down at Ichigo, swaying if his senses were working as they should be. Ichigo's fingertips carded through his hair, the spiked bangs separating before falling back across his forehead, the sharp points heavy with dampness and dipping into the valley of his eyes. It really was far too hot out for such a cool night, wasn't it.

He puffed air from the corner of his lips and grumbled.

“Gotta get that cut.”

“Don't.”

“Mmm.” Grimmjow dove back down to swipe at that perfect mouth with his tongue, then sucked at Ichigo's lower lip as he pulled back. He repeated the action, humming as he did, his eyes dropping shut. “Kay then.”

The kiss deepened and Ichigo pulled up tight against him, hands exploring every rise and divot and flat expanse his fingers came across, every new sensation and movement beneath them like lightening in his mind. He was mapping every part of Grimmjow's body he could reach, and it all began to translate into urgent need inside the wet heat of their mouths.

Slowly, lazily, Ichigo became aware that the ground beneath them was moving. Or perhaps the room itself had shifted. Didn't really matter. All that mattered was that they were at the bed. And then, they were on it, Ichigo's back once again pushed onto soft covers, Grimmjow's hand around his throat. Lightly this time, feeling his pulse beneath his palm, enjoying the feel of blood rushing through his veins, being force through by his fast beating heart.

It let the King know how affected Ichigo was by him. How much he excited his body. And it served another purpose.

To dominate.

Ichigo felt dizzy with a sudden need to relax. To submit.

He didn't. And it passed, Grimmjow's hand lifting away to explore, expose, and unmask every impulse his consort might reveal to him, discover other ways to make him bend and break.

Ichigo felt small whimpers straining to get out as Grimmjow's hands went to work. The man was evil incarnate.

It seemed liked days ago that Grimmjow had tried to convince Ichigo to sleep with him with his carefully chosen words. But as Ichigo had discovered, it turned out his blue-haired eminence was even more compelling and persuasive with his hands and tongue.

And it seemed like only minutes ago since Grimmjow had begun his pleasurable torment of Ichigo's body. And it was.

Ichigo growled inside his head. Grimmjow had pulled away, but Ichigo wasn't finished with him yet.

Yes. Grimmjow had pulled away. His animal was stirring, growing more and more impatient, scratching at the surface to be set free. He didn't make it far before Ichigo's fingers raked up his abdominals, and his stomach sucked in deep, nearly turning itself inside out it shuddered so hard. The kid had moves.

“You sure you're a virgin?” he hissed, jaw clenched as the pleasure shot to his groin. And to a cock that needed immediate attention.

They were both still half dressed, finding their enjoyment along the clustered ridges of their abs and across the more rounded bulk of their chests. But Grimmjow couldn't ignore the hard-on still trapped beneath the fabric of his clothes. The fullness of his cock as it swayed, the pleasure when it move and rubbed. And he had barely brought it into play, wanting to draw out their first time, let them both enjoy the moment.

But for all his good intentions, he was done with foreplay. And now Ichigo, for all his intentions, was nearly clawing at his chest.

Ichigo ran his hand, nails leaving red marks, down Grimmjow's stomach again before he realized he was going nowhere. Literally. Grimmjow hovered above him on all fours, Ichigo's body caged by thick muscled arms and legs.

“I'm done playing games, Ichigo.” Blue eyes seemed to shift to something darker and Ichigo stiffened. “I want you. Now.”

“Wait.” 

“You already made me wait. Nobody makes me do anything... denies me... But you...”

Grimmjow's heavy palm felt like fire as it suddenly gripped his thigh, hand curving over it, thumb edging in towards his erection. Ichigo grabbed his wrist, barely tethering that strength with his own.

“Just s-slow down.”

Grimmjow cocked his head.

“Hnnn... Slow? Okay. How slow do you want it, Ichi? I'll give it to you as slow and deep as your body can handle.”

“That's not what I meant, and you kn- ...”

Grimmjow let his hips drop, the whole weight of him coming to rest on the one most vulnerable point between them. Ichigo was just nervous, but his King would have him bent over and screaming his name in minutes, regardless of his pleas to slow things down.

Grimmjow groaned. And Ichigo grimaced, caught up in a pulse of arousal, before his head fell back, a dead weight that left him looking up to the ceiling through closed eyes like it was heaven's gate. His stomach sunk in and his chest rose as he drew in a deep breath to replace the one he'd lost.

Grimmjow watched his virgin mate writhe and bend, like a starving dog watches a meaty bone. He couldn’t take it. He needed to be inside him. He dropped down to kiss his chest and took in a mouth full of round tanned skin, sucking the raised flesh past his lips and into the heat of his mouth.

Ichigo's head rocked back and forth, like he could hardly stand the sensation.

“Uhgn.... God.”

Grimmjow loosened his grip for a moment.

“Hnn. Can I be, Ichi?” Lips pulled again, suctioned against flesh, and Ichigo's hands flew to Grimmjow's biceps, fingers digging uselessly against solid bulk as he nearly whined in pleasured despair. “Will you let me be your God?”

Brown eyes slit open in disgust. Grimmjow only grinned and went right back to work.

“Keh. Such...a... arrogant...ah... Fuck...”

“You're right, Ichigo. I'm guilty.” Despite the death grip on his arms, Grimmjow managed to raise one hand enough to brush back the single spike of hair that had lost its battle to remain upright, much like it's owner, and had fallen limp against Ichigo's overly-warm forehead.

“I'm a very bad man, aren't I. Just coming in and taking what I want from you.” A little pinch of delicate flesh between his teeth and Ichigo wasn't in any position to respond with proper language.

“Shi-”

And just like that, his defences down, Grimmjow grabbed his arm and flipped him.

“What the hell? Get off m-...”

Ichigo started to protest but it died, a strangled sound in his throat, as he was yanked back hard by his hair and kissed properly.

And just as suddenly, the kiss was gone and strong hands were grabbing his hips and pulling them up. Ichigo yelped as he was dragged into a very compromising position. He yelped again when rough fingers dug into the hem of his pants and yanked them down hard, baring his naked ass and tender sac to the eyes of the King.

Grimmjow hummed in appreciation. And with a swear, Ichigo began to turn and pull away, not liking being pushed around so easily, like a toy being played with by a large and predatory cat. But a strong grip on the muscly flesh of his ass kept him from escape.

He gasped as the pad of a thumb began to caress his entrance, the rubbing bringing instant pleasure he'd never expected. He felt himself twitching as the massaging continued, and after a moment the feeling became surprisingly smooth, because... he was wet. His body readying itself for penetration.

It wasn't fair at all. Ichigo's body may be ready, but he wasn't. Grimmjow wanted to have sex, but Ichigo hadn't gotten to explore him nearly as much as he wanted to yet.

The thumb suddenly flicked against him, back and forth across that sensitive space, the feeling sending a shiver of pleasure down through his sac and into his erection, his erection jumping so hard, the length of it knocked against his shuddering navel.

And he moaned, pushing back without thought, until he heard a throaty growl.

“I want you to do something for me.”

“What... what's that?” Ichigo caught his breath as he waited for Grimmjow's reply.

“Submit your whole body to me,” he rumbled.

Ichigo went quite still. He wasn't clear what Grimmjow meant, but it sort of sounded like...

“Tonight... you will call me your King. And you will submit and take my seed. And for every night hereafter.”

Ichigo gaped, unable to find words of neither approval nor protest.

Grimmjow's father had been a great leader, a King the people had respected. Since his rise to the throne, Grimmjow had already earned a large degree of respect amongst his people as well. The city wasn't a perfect place, but Ichigo could tell that Grimmjow would soon rise to the heights of his father, even beyond. He couldn't deny he had it in him. And he couldn't deny how his owns feelings for the man bent and bowed around him.

He knew he wanted a family. Soon, but not right damn now. And not by being taken without his consent. And what Grimmjow had just said sure as hell did not sound like he was asking for it.

Ichigo turned to glare sideways daggers at the blue-eyed warrior at his flank, cheeks stained with the heat of his ever present defiance. But Grimmjow was already moving in close, leaning forward and draping himself across Ichigo's back, then pushing and taking them both down flat against the bed. 

Now, instead of glaring, he could barely focus on the features that hovered scant inches away. Just a fuzzy outline of tanned cheeks, hard jawbone, and pale earthy lips.

“I'm not your property... not some prize... And I don't... I won't submit.” He half panted his words as Grimmjow ground into him, trying hard to sound stern even as his voice crumbled and broke around his intentions. To his distant dismay.

“You're right, Ichigo. You're not a prize...” Grimmjow's smile was fuzzy, breath warm and pleasant on Ichigo's cheek. The rumbling purr that drove through him left him thrusting into the sheets with a low groan.

Grimmjow felt the two strong muscles beneath him rise and lower as they clenched against his throbbing erection. He shuddered and buried his face in Ichigo's neck, nipping at the soft skin by his shoulder. How much he wanted to split them wide apart, and with a hard decisive thrust, conquer the indefensible space between.

“I want you beside me, as my partner. You're my future. And I want to be yours.”

Ichigo grunted to deny the groan that bubble up at the rumbled declaration. He barely knew what the words meant. He responded more to the sound of his King's voice. Husky tenor dripping with the things his body sought. Desire and dominance.

Then suddenly, the weight on his back was gone. And if Ichigo didn't have any sense left to move now that he was free, he executed it perfectly.

He heard a soft rustle, Grimmjow's last bit of clothing being divested and tossed to the floor. He started to turn when he felt a sharp tug, legs jostled roughly as he too was freed of the material that had been left wrapped around his legs. He pushed himself up onto his arms and twisted around, intent on sitting up, finally finding the mental resources to put Grimmjow back in his place and slow things down.

“Could you at least ask before you...”

Ichigo gaped. What the hell was he supposed to do with that?

It had been nothing to sneeze at when Grimmjow had changed in front of him. Even semi-flaccid, the healthy length hung with a definite weight to it between his legs. But now it stood up and out, thick, long, ridged, and lined with veins that kept it full and expectant. And right now, behind him, it was far more intimidating than even Grimmjow's own sword.

Grimmjow moved fast, on his knees behind Ichigo, determined hands keeping him right where he was.

“You want this?” he growled. “Hn?”

Ichigo felt every part of him whimper, a thrill of fear running through him. It had ended a suggestive question, but it carried the weight of an indisputable order.

Ichigo remained still, waiting, eyes ground shut with anticipation, face buried in folded arms. Nothing made sense. How could he fear it when he wanted it so badly?

Grimmjow rested his hardened member against Ichigo's lower back. Then he scooped up his heavy, turgid flesh, humming in pleasure as he let it slide up and down along the crook of Ichigo's rear, soon guiding the wide spongy head between his thumb and fingers towards the shy little divot that marked the entrance way into Ichigo's sweet passage.

Grimmjow grunted as he pressed forward against it, waiting for it to give way. Once. Twice. Again. He pulled away and gave an aggravated huff. What the fuck?

Ichigo was closed up tighter than the palace vault.

Now, Grimmjow had figured out that Ichigo wasn't some swooning female who would just cant over at the first whisper of heated words that fell from Grimmjow's lips. Or apparently the hundredth. But this was ridiculous.

He frowned. Maybe Ichigo wasn't quite ready to be taken. Maybe it was still Grimmjow that needed to give.

“I need you, Ichigo,” he husked. “I want to make you feel good. Just... open up for me, hn? Please, Ichi.”

He let go of his dick and let it rest against the cleft of Ichigo's beautiful ass, reaching instead to cup the side of his lover's face, turning it towards his own as he leaned in close. The scent of his own lust lingered on his fingertips and he knew Ichigo could smell his musk and his need. He dropped in low and lapped just once at those sweet parted lips, with a question. Then he withdrew and leaned back, hands and eyes trailing down his lover's spine, watching the subtle movements of his shoulder blades as he breathed in and out and in again.

Ichigo had turned his head away again, but he heard him breath a long a shaky sigh. A decision, he hoped. He nudged that guarded space the tip of his dick again, gently. This time, the resistance didn't seem so great. He leaned against it. And slowly... it gave.

Grimmjow groaned long and low as he tenderly mounted his mate.

Once partway inside, he could feel the pulse of his dick backing up into his balls. It throbbed with his heartbeat against the restrictive walls of Ichigo's body.

With every roll of his hips, he sank into that welcoming heat like he was coming home, the first moments of the crippling pressure knocking the wind out of him.

Grimmjow seemed to be the one suffering the most. Ichigo was built for this, and it showed as he seemed to melt with pleasure from the cock that was pushing into him. Everything about being inside him felt different. Grimmjow was almost amazed he had the capacity to notice anything outside of the heat and pressure. But it really was a different feeling. Ichigo was easier to get into, his channel stretching quickly to accommodate his notable girth. And just where his long length was going as it disappeared from sight, was pure black magic. Rarely did he manage to fit himself all the way inside. He groaned along with Ichigo throughout the whole process. Finally, he was seated, every last inch of him buried inside his mate.

Grimmjow ran his palm over Ichigo's back, a comforting gesture, and a nod to his strength. He took him slowly, as promised, hips working to a sensual rhythm that was a far contrast to the rapid beating of their hearts, every breath fast and panted from the shock of ecstasy that raced through them with every movement and left them breathless.

Ichigo's mouth was open in a silent scream. He was struggling not to collapse, his thighs shaking from the effort, sweat dripping along his temples. The pressure was immense. Grimmjow was inside him, all of him. And when he wasn't, he wanted him back. It wasn't possible to feel this good from such a thing, was it? Every ridge of his thick, heavenly length stroking his smooth insides. The suction of its withdrawal almost as pleasing as the pressure of its entrance.

And then Grimmjow stopped moving.

“Do you like my cock, Ichi?”

“Nnngh... bastard...”

“Tell me... you love it... inside you.”

“Bastard... shut up... just...”

“What was that?” he purred, hips slowing even more, as impossible as it was for him to do.

“Fuck. I love your cock inside me,” Ichigo snarled. Pissed off and at wits end.

“Yeah? What do you want from my cock, Ichi?”

“I want to feel it,” he panted, voice straining through heavy breaths.

“Feel it what?”

“I'm not gonna...”

“Feel it what. Tell me what you want, Ichi.”

“Damn y-... I want to feel you fucking me with your cock...” he hissed. “Okay?”

Grimmjow hummed and picked up his pace again, panting in excitement at the desperate pornographic words he'd choked out of his mate.

Ichigo shuddered beneath him.

“Ohhh my god. Oh fucking christ.” 

The King closed his eyes and growled in pleasure as the obscene language continued.

“Ohh. Deeper. Please don't.. don't... stop.”

Grimmjow hissed through his teeth. Hellfire. Stop?! He was going to blow his whole load in an instant if Ichigo kept this up. Hell, even if he didn't, he was close to snapping already, his aroused and struggling member so overwhelmed as it was squeezed and abused under the weight of that vice-like grip... he felt like he was the virgin.

The slide from Ichigo's natural lubricant made Grimmjow's movement smoother and easier than anything he could have applied to his partner. Despite the tight grip of his body, that slick wetness was always abundant, a perfect playground as he snapped his hips forward, rutting faster inside his mate.

A feral growl filled the room as Grimmjow started bucking into that clenching heat.

Grimmjow's head spun, but he couldn't stop moving, cock driving forward and deeper and in in in, seeking absolution in the slippery wet depths of the body he had claimed as his alone to conquer, bound now towards his course by a thousand years of instinct, and the growing fire in his belly. Even if his mate challenged him, he knew he would not stop.

His thrusts began to become more jerky. Something was getting in the way, a bump in the smooth road of their love making. Grimmjow grit his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure as realization dawned. He was knotting. A few inches from his groin, his cock had begun to swell, a bulge that would soon catch inside his mate, tying them together. And then Grimmjow would unload all the cum he had into his mate, not one drop of it allowed to escape. All of it, staying right where it belonged.

Once knotted, Ichigo would not be able to escape what was coming.

Ichigo was becoming aware of this too. Even as he neared his own untouched release, he could feel that something was different. There was a new stretching pain, short and dull, and then his partner's thrusts had become shallower, more rapid and jerking.

The small part of Ichigo's mind yelled to him a final warning, the last remembrance of resistance he had left.

Grimmjow should be pulling out. They were both so close. When the time came, he was going to pull out, right?

“Oh fuck, Ichi, I can't hold off... any longer.” Grimmjow was panting hard, eyes rolling under heavy lids. “I wanna come... in you... now.”

Ichigo was suddenly caught between panic and impending bliss, the coiling in his stomach growing ever tighter. He gripped the sheets harder and cursed in denial, trying to pull away, but his body was too far gone on its course to obey.

“N- No... Wait... You can't... Shit...”

He panted his pleas, but even as he did, his legs spread wider for his mate and his stomach and chest burrowed into the bed, back bowing before his King, poised to raise and open his entrance to receive all of his mate's potent seed.

“Mmm, yes I can, Ichigo. And I will. Gonna fill you with our princes. You denied me for so long. Now you're going to feel your belly fill with my seed.”

Ichigo moaned at the words, terrifying words, thrilling and possessive. And in that moment Ichigo was gone, and his world went white

Grimmjow groaned as the inside of his mate began to contract, tightening around his throbbing erection, pulling the impossible entrance he'd been waiting for into the path of his sharp frantic thrusts. The space, not much bigger than the head of his shaft, now took the brunt of his blunted jabs.

Ichigo bucked underneath him as Grimmjow surged forward in one long hard thrust, the ungodly sensation of something inside him being hit like a battering ram, until finally, the muscle keeping Grimmjow from his goal, suddenly twitched hard and relaxed, granting Grimmjow his right. 

Now they were twice bound together.

Grimmjow snarled and slammed himself home, cock beginning to spill as the mushroomed head caught tight inside, muscles that had indulged his demands for entrance, now clamping down around him to keep him there as he spent himself.

The thrust, in all its force, tore a sharp cry from Ichigo, a desperate mix of despair and anguish and euphoria, the hot stretching of his tiny chamber incredible and unbearable all at once.

Grimmjow threw his head back and groaned until he roared, open mouthed and unrestrained, the tendons and veins of his neck straining, as taught and blushed as the pulsing member that convulsed and spurted its contents in welcome agony.

His euphoria was indescribable. He had planted himself, potent seed spreading, pooling then swelling the small virgin chamber, the accommodating walls stretching around its growing load of thick fluid.

Ichigo gasped as he was pressed into that final time. Grimmjow's roar as he came inside him was as loud as thunder to his ears. But it still didn't match the feeling deep inside his body. It started as a ball of fire low in his belly. He could feel his insides explode into liquid heat and his eyes flew open in burst of panic that was whitewashed with the hot burn of ecstasy.

For one frozen moment, they both pushed forward, stiffening, bodies going nowhere at all, tied and blending together.

And everything about Grimmjow rushed into Ichigo.

Ichigo pulled away from the overload of sensations as he spurted his own release onto the sheets beneath them. But Grimmjow's weight, and that tying bulge inside him held their bodies together.

Panting hard, hips rocking affectionately as he rode out the first, most powerful orgasm, Grimmjow growled in satisfaction. Not a drop of precious seed would be spilled.

“Do you feel that, Ichigo? Do you feel full?”

Grimmjow rested on top of his mate, head spinning, even as he rumbled into his mate's ear. A small questioning noise came from beneath him, lethargic, hazed.

“Five days, Ichigo. Your belly swells with five days of my seed.”

Ichigo groaned, head turning to accept the warm tongue in his mouth, just as he had accepted the milky fluid. He was beaten. All fail safes were off, and in this moment he couldn't find it in him to be angry. He wanted a family. Always had. Not today, but, that was neither here nor there now. He knew the pool of seed inside him was strong, like the King, and potent, taking root even now as they lay together.

His instinct told him so.

He groaned again, the pure, rugged taste of Grimmjow, the musk of their private indiscretion, lingering in his mouth.

Grimmjow was right.

He felt full. His insides quivered and shook with each new pulse of fluid. This delivery and acceptance would continue for a long lazy hour, Ichigo's muscles bearing down and milking the hardened flesh inside him, Grimmjow's thick length pulsing out its gift agreeably.

The process would drain them both. And the gentle surges of pleasure would pull them into sleep.

“You are incredible Ichigo. That was by far the most amazing thing I've ever done.”

“After what I just did for you,” he grumbled, the edge of anger in his voice quite real, “it'd better have been.”

“Mmm yeah... “ Grimmjow purred, too sated and still enjoying small pulses of pleasure to be bothered by his mate's fussing. ”I think we should mate again in the morning.”

“I'm sure you've done your damage already,” a grumbling hiss snapped back at him. “How about you gimme a sword. And I'm gonna.. ngh... kick your ass in the morning.”

Grimmjow blinked, then grinned.

“Oh, that's right. I owe you some more training.”

“Ngh... Who said anything about training.”

Grimmjow chuckled softly. It was hard to be intimidated when Ichigo's breath kept catching and his insides twitched with every small spurt surrendered from his nestled member, that much more seed trapped deep inside that fertile body. His tight channel milking him and taking every drop.

“Shh. Sleep. You're gonna get me excited again.”

“Tch.”

Grimmjow snuggled into the crook of his royal mate's neck, about to drag them both over, joined as they passed out into oblivion.

He was happy. His bed and his mate were full, his kingdom secure, and with those two things tomorrow's dawn excited him in ways that it never had before. 

He dragged them both onto their sides, Ichigo's round bottom pressed tight against Grimmjow's groin, locked together where his stiff member lay contentedly lodged inside. But even as sleep pulled, one thing bothered him still.

“Are you happy, Ichigo?” he murmured, lid-eyed and sated, mind beginning to drift. To make it clear that he was, Grimmjow snaked his hand around Ichigo's body, palm caressing and fingers kneading the soft space of his navel.

Ichigo shifted forward at his shoulders and twisted his head around, enough that he could see the face of the man who had taken his virginity and bred him without anything more than his body's call as passable consent.

Grimmjow flinched, unable to do much more than that. Formidable brown eyes had cracked opened, a dangerous tint to them. But eventually, the hard expression softened and he replied with a tired smirk. Morning was a nice word.

“Mmm. This could work.”

The King smiled.

He knew what secrets the birds kept.

Grimmjow brought his lips up to Ichigo's open mouth and touched them together with gentle pressure.

A feather.

Falling through the trees.

Twisting and turning.

Caught up in the heat of the suns' broken flames.

Gliding on the breeze of an impatient Spring eve.


End file.
